


Princes in the Tower

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Durin Family, Gen, Horror, Mental Health Issues, Prompt Fill, Starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 09:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of developing Gold Sickness, Thorin develops an obsession with protecting his nephews, which quickly turns dark when Thorin locks them up inside Erebor, and food begins running low. Prompt fill, for the Hobbit meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Princes in the Tower

Hunger was a wicked, sneaky thing. Fili had actually forgotten how low it could bring a dwarf. When they first started out from the Blue Mountains he and Kili had been plump and stocky as any healthy young dwarrow. It had been many years since food was short for their family, or anyone else in Ered Luin, and while Fili had some memories of being hungry as a babe, they were distant and fuzzy with age. Even their trek through Mirkwood had not been so bad, for they still had strength to walk, and complain about the pain in their bellies.  
      
He and Kili had gone beyond pain now. It had been days since they'd run out of food, and even longer since they'd seen their uncle. Their bellies were quiet, as if the hardy organ had given up entirely and died inside of them. They were weak, and could barely move. When Fili tried, his hands would shake and he'd grow faint, while hot and cold chills ran down his spine. Mostly they slept. Sleeping made it easier. When they could not sleep they would stare up into the dark of their prison, tracing ridges of stone and the etchings of Dwarven runes. Sometimes Fili would read them aloud, but he always had to stop because he ran out of breath and lost his words. Kili did not speak at all, and it felt so wrong to see his normally vibrant brother turn still and quiet.  
      
Fili knew they were dying, and when Kili opened his eyes he could see his brother knew that too, but they did not waste their breath talking about it. If they could not go in battle like their forefathers, at least they would still go together. It was small comfort, languishing here in the dark, like treasures Thorin had hidden under the rocks to take with him  to the halls of Mahal when he passed. He'd once said they were more precious to him than all the gold in Erebor. Before they came to the mountain that had been a comfort, but after, Fili saw it could also be a curse.  
      
He wondered if there was something he could have done, or said, to prevent all this. He should have been more aware of his Uncle's state of mind. He had been treading a delicate path with Thorin, since they reached the Lonely Mountain. He'd seen his Uncle's eyes light up at the sight of the dragon's hoard, but as he searched further and further for the Arkenstone, the covetous glint had faded into something dark and angry. That was more like the Thorin that Fili had always known, so he didn't worry about it.  
      
He should have.  
      
His Uncle was not concerned with the golden coins and cups and armor scattered in the lower halls. Instead, he watched Fili and Kili. He sent them dark looks whenever they wandered too far, and the longer they were trapped in the mountain, the closer he kept them and the more paranoid he grew. Sometimes he would hold them close, digging his large hands into the backs of their scruffy necks, and whisper that they should trust no-one but him. Not even the rest of the company, for there was too much gold here, and they would turn greedy soon. That should have been a hint, Fili thought, if only he'd been wise enough to see it at the time. Perhaps some part of him had, because he grew tense around his uncle, and had trouble sleeping.  
      
Then, something in Thorin cracked. Fili wasn't sure what it was that set him off. Perhaps it was the lingering stench of dragon, or the news Bofur brought from his watch post, that men were marching up from the Long Lake. Or perhaps, it was the message a raven brought, that Dain Ironfoot was coming with his army and would soon be over the mountain passes. That should have been good news. Thorin had sent word to Dain as soon they claimed the mountain, asking him to come and help them defend it. Instead the news sent their Uncle into a rage.  
      
“That miserable thief. He is no better than a wyrm himself!”  
      
“Uncle!” Fili had tried to laugh, over their scant supper of cram.  
      
“He thinks he can come here and seize the crown, my mountain, and the legacy of our kin, now that the dragon is gone and only a small company of fourteen stand against him.”  
      
“Uncle, you sent for him,” Kili said, wary and confused.  
      
“We offered him a place in this quest from the beginning and Dain refused. He'll have no share in the spoils or your birthright now. I won't have him in these halls!” Thorin rumbled, glaring at them all. Bilbo was looking very worried, and Balin was frowning with Dwalin and Oin.  
      
“Thorin, perhaps--” the older warrior began, but was cut off.  
      
“No!” Thorin shouted at them all, and there was madness in his eyes. It wasn't the taint of gold greed or a dragon's spell, but something darker, and more twisted. “Seal the gates. Use the rubble from the lower halls to build a barricade, and block any hole or entrance you can find. Fili, Kili, come with me,” he ordered and marched out of the front hall. Fili shared a worried look with Balin, and then reluctantly trailed after his uncle with Kili in tow.  
      
They walked through the long, echoing halls of Erebor, past bones, and rotting tables, and the broken trinkets of a time gone by. The mountain stretched overhead, and its shadows bore down on them like the weight of an anvil. Thorin had one single torch, and it was not enough to keep the darkness at bay. Fili had no idea where they were. They had gone up so many stairs, and bridges and halls that they could have been in the back of the mountain, or the front.  
      
“Where are we going, Uncle?” Fili eventually asked.  
      
“To one of the King's chambers.” Thorin rumbled. “In the third age when Thrain the Old came to Erebor, and began tunneling through the mountain, he made secret rooms for his kin. They were kept hidden from even the closest lords and advisers, and passed down only through Durin's line. In case they were needed. Once he kept his children there, when the lords of the halls threatened to revolt.”  
      
Thorin shoved against a tall door, and Kili and Fili leant him their strength until they'd pushed it open with a despairing creak of ancient hinges. Inside were a series of large chambers, with stone chairs and a hearth, and the rotting remains of goose-down pillows. Thorin took them to a blank wall on the far side and ran his hands over it, searching. He smiled when he found a small dip in the stonework. It was nearly invisible and Fili only saw it because part of his Uncle's hand had disappeared there. Then Thorin passed him the torch, pulled out the key Thrain had left to him, and slid it into the the hole. There was a click, and a large chunk of the wall rolled aside.  
      
Thorin lead them inside and settled the torch in a stone bracket. Even with the light of the flames this chamber was dark, and grim. It had a bare floor, and walls with a few nooks and ledges carved into them, but no chairs, or beds or tapestries, and not a single sliver of light except what came from the open door.  
      
“You two will stay here,” he ordered. “Until I come and fetch you.”  
      
“What? Uncle no!”  
      
“You cannot be serious!”  
      
Both Fili and Kili argued, and begged and even threatened him with their mother's name, but nothing swayed Thorin. He did not trust them in the lower halls and he could not trust the company to keep them safe with Dain's troops so close to banging on their doorstep. If the worst should happen, he could not bear them being held hostage. They would stay here. Then he closed the door, and left them with nothing but each other and a single torch, which burned down in hours. The dark closed in, and they sat in a corner, shivering and feeling like they'd been shut inside a tomb.  
      
In the early days, after they were locked away, Thorin came often and every time he appeared Fili would quarrel with him, begging him to let them out. Sometimes Kili would try as well, but he had too short a temper, and was more affected by the dark so he would just end up shouting and Thorin would treat him like someone who needed a nap. Fili was calmer. He tried to be rational, and mature, and he was sure that if he could just make their uncle see reason this madness would pass. Then things would go back to the way they were. The way they were always meant to be.  
      
But they didn't.  
      
Soon Kili began to grow angry with Fili too, and they shouted at each other. There was not much else to do, stuck in the rocks like gems as they were. Kili said he should stop making excuses for their uncle, and eventually Fili did. They tried to find a way to open the door, but they were not architects or rune carvers, or even miners. They were warriors and hunters who'd lived above ground most of their lives. They could not even find the seam in the rock which held the edges of the door.  
      
Their only way out was to strike at Thorin, or for someone else to find them. Which seemed very unlikely, if these chambers had been secret since the days of Thrain the Old. But however angry Kili grew, and however bitter Fili's heart turned, neither of them would fight their Uncle. They were loyal to the end, because doing otherwise was like admitting defeat. So they stayed, and waited, and asked each other riddles until they ran out of them. Thorin became the only break in their monotony and they looked forward to it, and dreaded it in equal measure. He brought them food, and reminded them they had not been abandoned, but he also rambled about treachery and secrets and spies, and held them too close, and touched Fili's hair in ways that made him shiver. He was glad Kili took after their mother in looks, and didn't have a spec of gold on him.  
      
He tried to keep track of time, but the only thing to mark it was their dwindling rations. Before they had been locked up, Fili was keeping count of their supplies with Bombur. He and Kili, and Bombur and little Bilbo Baggins seemed to be the only ones worried about their food, and Bombur had figured out when they would run out of cram, to the day. Fourteen mouths took a great deal of feeding after all. So as their daily supper grew smaller and smaller, Fili felt a glimmer of hope that their imprisonment would end. Surely Thorin couldn't keep them in here when there was no food!  
      
But then Thorin came to them carrying a whole extra bag of rations, and Fili knew something had gone horribly wrong.  
      
“Where did you get this?” He gulped, holding a new packet of cram and looking at his Uncle.  
      
“From our supplies,” Thorin replied with a doting smile that looked odd on his normally stern face.  
      
“We don't have enough supplies for this,” Fili countered, angry. “They'd have run out days ago unless... did you make a deal, with men of the Dale?” He leaned forward, suddenly eager and hopeful again. Perhaps their uncle was mending bridges. But Thorin only frowned and snarled.  
      
“I would not treat with those slinking, grasping, greedy people even if they had the Arkenstone to offer me.”  
      
“Then, where did you get this?” Fili asked, while behind him Kili shifted restlessly. “Uncle, what did you do?”  
      
“That is not your concern,” Thorin barked. “I am your king, what I do is in the interests of the crown, and your safety and health. The two of you are more important than anyone in that company of doubters. More important then the lives of men, or the fate of their simple town.” He held onto Fili and Kili, touching his forehead to theirs while he continued his impassioned speech, and Fili felt a cold weight of guilt settle in his belly, like silt in the water.  
      
So it was they learned that master Baggins had left their company, and gone to seek aid or “better payment” as Thorin said, from Bard and the men of Lake-Town. Bombur, Bofur and Bifur left soon after, and then Nori. Dori and Ori were banished by Thorin, followed by Oin and Gloin. Each time another member of the company left Thorin would bring them another bag of food, but it only put off the hunger for a little while. There simply wasn't enough left, and their bellies began to shrink and ache. Thorin was getting hollow eyed and shaky, and Fili suspected he was adding some of his own dismally small rations to theirs.  
      
Then one day Thorin came to them with sharp cut on his face and said that Dwalin and Balin were gone now too. He had banished them as traitors when he found them searching the upper halls for Fili and Kili. He said it was the worst betrayal he had ever suffered, and that of all the dwarves he'd never thought Dwalin would try to steal them away. He insisted that Balin would have sold them to Bard, or Dain or even worse, the Elven-King. They'd be kept as leverage against their Uncle while other lord's ruled in his place, and he said that if those lords ever found Fili and Kili, they would never see the light of day again.  
      
Kili had snapped. He howled at Thorin and said that was no worse than where they were already, locked up like rats in this blasted hole. Thorin had struck him, and Fili barely managed to break them apart. Kili was seething, and Fili had never seen Thorin so angry. He looked like he might kill them. Fili readied himself for brawl, almost eager to be done with it, but then Thorin stopped. His face turned soft, in a sickly, condescending way, as if he'd suddenly decided they were not sane enough to argue with him properly.  
      
“You are young,” he said to himself. Than he came forward took Kili's face in his hands, while Fili's younger brother tried to back away, with a scared light in his eyes. “You'll understand, when you're older," Thorin said. "This is to protect you, both of you. It won't be forever. Once I've dealt with Bard and that traitor Dain, things will be different. You'll see.” He laid a kiss on Kili's brow, and Kili looked like he was going to be sick. Fili did not feel that far behind. Then Thorin left them again, with nothing but stone and cram for company.  
      
“He's not going to get better, is he?” Kili asked later, as they sat in the dark.  
      
“I don't think so,” Fili answered hollowly.  
      
“He won't be able to hold off Bard, or Dain.”  
      
“No.”  
      
“And there's no-one else in the mountain now,” Kili said. Fili nodded and wrapped his arms around his little brother, holding him fast against his chest and trying to keep the cold at bay. They sat like that, in silence, for a long time, and then Kili finally whispered. “They're going to kill him.”  
      
Fili only nodded, and blinked away the sting of tears in his eyes.  
      
That was the last time they'd seen Thorin. Fili did not know how long it had been since then, days, or a week. The last of the cram and water had been devoured, though he'd tried to make it last. There was only so little a dwarf could eat. Now he lay on the ground with his back against the stone walls of their prison, feeling death creep up on him. Kili was stretched out beside him while Fili kept a hand near his brother's face, counting the breaths that left Kili's nose to make sure his brother was still alive.  
      
He wondered if Thorin was dead now, and if the dwarfs of their company would give him a proper burial. He did not want his Uncle forgotten or defiled, no matter how mad his last days had been. He closed his eyes, and wondered if he and Kili would be found while their bodies were still recognizable, or if they would be no more then bones, like those corpses in the lower halls.  
      
Then, far away, there came a sound of distant thunder. He blinked, trying to stay awake. Kili's breath had turned shallow and erratic on his palm. The noise came again, a tromp, tromp, tromp of boots growing closer. Fili tried to lift his head, but his vision swam and spots danced before his eyes. He almost laughed. They were in the mountain. New dwarves and men had come at last, and he did not even have the strength to call out to them. What irony.  
      
“Kili,” he whispered, and nudged his brother's face. “Kili, they're here. Wake up.” He prodded him again, harder this time. “Wake up, little brother.”  
      
Kili did not move.  
      
The sound of boots on stone was almost on them now. There was a grinding of stone against stone, then a harsh spill of warm light fell across the floor and Fili had to shut his eyes. A voice was shouting. Then another, and another, and suddenly their little prison was filled with noise and light and there were hands on him, pulling him away from Kili while boots and robes and iron belts surrounded his brother.  
      
“Send word to Lord Dain and Lord Balin. We've found them. And fetch a healer!”  
      
“Kili,” Fili whispered as he was lifted up. “Kili wake up.”  
      
Kili still wasn't moving, and Fili was carried away in the arms of a dozen dwarves, softly begging his brother to wake up and not leave him behind.


End file.
